Kondere

As children around the world return to school, let us do more than wish them a good year.

Let us go to war in prayer.

Heavenly Father,

In the mighty name of Jesus Christ, we plead the precious blood of Jesus over every child. Let His blood speak life, mercy, protection, and victory over them.

Lord, surround them with Your hedge of fire. Let Your angels encamp around them and guard them wherever they go, in classrooms, on school buses, on playgrounds, on sports fields, and on every journey to and from school.

Your Word declares:

"No weapon formed against you shall prosper..."(Isaiah 54:17)

We cancel every assignment of the enemy against our children. Every spirit of violence, bullying, fear, confusion, deception, addiction, self-harm, abuse, exploitation, sickness, and death—we rebuke you in the name of Jesus Christ. You have no authority over these children.

Father, expose every hidden trap before they reach it. Deliver them from evil and keep them from those who would seek to harm them physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually.

We pray for discernment, courage, and wisdom. May they stand for truth without fear, choose righteousness over compromise, and walk in the fear of the Lord rather than the fear of man.

Protect the minds of our children from every influence that seeks to steal their identity, distort Your truth, or lead them away from Your purpose. Let the Holy Spirit guide them into all truth.

We declare that our children shall grow in wisdom, in stature, and in favor with God and with people. They shall be taught by the Lord, and great shall be their peace.

We dedicate this school year to You. Jesus Christ is Lord over our homes, our schools, our teachers, and our children.

In the mighty name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

"The LORD will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore." Psalm 121:8

**Stand still. That is the entire instruction.**

You know how we are, we always feel as though we need to be doing something.

Make another phone call.
Send another message.
Knock on another door.
Come up with another plan.

We pray about something, but then we immediately begin trying to help God work it out. And sometimes, if we are honest, we end up getting in the way.

At the Red Sea, the Israelites were trapped. The sea was in front of them, Pharaoh’s army was behind them, and there was nowhere to run. Yet Moses told them:

“Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord.”
Exodus 14:13

Imagine being surrounded by danger and being told simply to stand still.
God was not asking them to pretend that the danger was not real. He was asking them to trust that He could handle what they could not.

Then Psalm 46:10 says:

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

Stand still and see.
Be still and know.

Maybe you do not need to make another move today. Maybe you do not need to force another door, chase another answer, or manipulate the outcome.

Sometimes God will tell us to move, but we must wait for His instruction.
Until then, stand still.

Let God be God.
Sometimes faith means moving mountains. At other times, faith means standing still long enough to watch God move them.

Stand still. That is the entire instruction.

We are action people. We believe that if we plan more, push harder, make another call, or open another door, we can somehow help God bring the answer.

Yet sometimes, in trying to assist God, we get in His way.

There are moments when faith does not require another move. It requires surrender.

Stand still. Stop striving. Stop manipulating the outcome.
Stop trying to do God’s part.

“Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord.” Exodus 14:13
“Be still, and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10

Stand still and see. Be still and know.
Sometimes, that is the entire instruction.
Stillness is not weakness or inactivity. Sometimes, it is the highest expression of trust.

As you begin this week, walk with confidence, not fear. God’s protection surrounds you, and no weapon formed against your peace, purpose, family, or future will prosper.

What are you placing under God’s protection this week?

The Wind Is Shifting

This weekend, I was captivated by the new adaptation of Little House on the Prairie on Netflix. One particular scene unfolded with gripping intensity, etching itself into my memory.
A relentless prairie fire bore down on the settlers' homes, a fiery beast threatening to devour everything in its path. With water scarce, there was no time for idle wishes or longing for rain. They sprang into action, channeling their fears into a fierce determination. Shovels in hand, they dug into the earth, carving out firebreaks with a fervor that matched the encroaching flames. Buckets were filled with water, every drop a precious defense against the inferno. Together, they fought against the odds, steadfast and unyielding, even as the flames roared closer.
Then, as if by a miracle, the wind shifted.

Living in California, where wildfires are as familiar as the sun setting over the Pacific, I understand the power a shift in the wind can hold. We've seen how a gentle breeze can steer a blaze away or propel it towards devastation. The scars left by wildfires on families and communities are deeply respected, a painful reminder of nature's capriciousness.
Yet, that scene resonated with me beyond the prairie. It echoed the silent battles many of us face, the invisible fires we fight daily. We pray, we labor, we persevere, even when the outcome remains shrouded in uncertainty. Like the settlers, we dig our firebreaks with faith, hoping for a shift in the winds of our lives.

In the Ethiopian tradition, there's a saying: "There is a time when success is in the hands of the Lord." Sirach 11:21. The Apostle Paul adds, "Let us not grow weary of doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galatians 6:9.
These words weave a beautiful tapestry of balance, urging us to do what we can with what we've been given and trust in a divine timing beyond our control.

Perhaps your breakthrough doesn't require more effort; perhaps it waits for that appointed time. So, if you find yourself carrying buckets today, laboring under the weight of unseen fires, take heart. Keep digging, keep believing. You never know when the wind is about to shift.
As I sat there, I couldn't help but ponder the lessons learned in moments of waiting. What has God taught you while you've been waiting for your own "wind to shift"?

You may not feel ready for everything this week will bring, but your strength does not come from you alone.

Through Christ, you have the courage to face every task, challenge, and opportunity before you.

What are you trusting Christ to strengthen you for this week?

Have you ever felt utterly exhausted, even though everyone around you assumed you had accomplished "nothing"?
What if the most challenging work in life is often the work that remains unseen by others?
Consider the prayers whispered in solitude, the parent dedicatedly raising children behind closed doors, the battles waged silently in the mind, the tears that remain unshared, and the years spent in preparation before one's purpose becomes evident.
Modern psychology now identifies this as invisible work.
Yet, long before the advent of psychology, the ancient Ethiopian Christian tradition had already preserved profound insights about hidden labor, silent formation, and the unseen work of God within the human soul.
In the upcoming episode of The Language of Silence, we will delve into a question that has the potential to transform your perception of yourself and those around you.

Episode 2: "The Work You Cannot See" is more than just a Bible study.
It's a journey through faith, psychology, history, and ancient wisdom, unveiling why some of God's most significant work occurs where no human eyes can witness it.

Coming soon on Kondere Soul Call.
"Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." 1 Samuel 16:7

As you begin this week, remember: you do not have to know every step when you trust the One guiding you.

God sees what lies ahead. He knows what you need and will lead you in the right direction.

What are you trusting God to guide you through this week?

Silence isn't just a fad in today's wellness circles; it's actually a time honored spiritual practice.
As I dive into the depths of The Language of Silence, I've been met with curiosity from many who wonder about the roots of these ideas.
There's no single explanation. Silence as a discipline weaves through Scripture, monastic traditions, contemplative prayer, and the ancient wisdom of early Christian communities.
However, one source might intrigue many Western readers. The Ethiopian Orthodox biblical tradition, born from one of the world's oldest Christian communities, offers a richer scriptural tapestry than many Protestants are familiar with. This tradition is a vivid reminder that Christianity has always echoed through diverse cultural accents and preserved scripture in various collections.
Among the cherished wisdom texts in historic Christian traditions is Sirach, or Ecclesiasticus.
Sirach 20 beautifully distinguishes between two types of silence:
Some people stay silent because they have nothing wise to say.
Others remain quiet because wisdom teaches them when to speak.
That distinction is crucial. Silence on its own isn't inherently sacred. At times, silence embodies wisdom. Other times, it stems from fear. Sometimes it shields peace. Other times, it shields injustice.
We might be silent because we're listening. Or because we're hiding.
At times, our silence gives space for others to speak. Yet other times, it leaves someone alone in their suffering.
That’s why practicing spiritual silence goes beyond merely closing our lips; it requires discernment.
The question isn't just: “Should I speak or stay silent?”
The deeper questions are: What is driving me toward silence?
Is it humility, or avoidance? Is it patience, or indifference?
Is it reverence, or fear? Will my silence uncover truth?
Or will it allow an essential truth to remain hidden?
In biblical wisdom, mature speech isn't judged by how quickly we respond, how fiercely we defend ourselves, or how decisively we jump into every discussion.
Wisdom asks if a word is true. If it is timely. If it is necessary. If it can be spoken with love.
This stands in stark contrast to the culture of immediate reactions.
We live in times that reward instant opinions. We're pushed to comment before understanding, defend before reflecting, and answer before truly listening.
But silence disrupts that pattern. It creates a sacred pause between impulse and response.
In that pause, anger can be examined. Motives can be purified. Others can be truly heard. And the heart can quiet down enough to hear God’s voice amidst our own noise.

However, biblical silence doesn't mean permanently retreating from the world. The same wisdom that guides us in when to be silent also teaches us when silence must end. There are times when love calls for restraint. And there are times when love demands courage.
There is “a time to keep silence, and a time to speak.”
Thus, the spiritual journey doesn't demand we become voiceless. It calls us to truthfulness, where our silence is attentive and our words are responsible.

Perhaps this is a timeless treasure from ancient Christian traditions:
Not an idyllic escape from noise, but a disciplined way of listening. Not silence for its own sake, but silence that readies the soul for speaking truthfully. Not a refusal to respond, but a refusal to respond without wisdom.
Not every moment demands an answer.
But every moment demands discernment.
This is part of why I find the Ethiopian biblical tradition so captivating. It invites us into a broader Christian memory, one that challenges our assumptions, deepens our listening, and reminds us that some of the voices we most need to hear have been speaking for ages.
Perhaps we’ve just been too rushed to listen.

Question to ponder:
When has silence safeguarded wisdom in your life, and when has it obstructed truth, healing, or courage?

There have been seasons in my own life when everything seemed to stand still.

Not the calm of serenity. The calm of ambiguity.
Looking back, I now realize that silence was shaping me more than certainty ever could.
Growth is often invisible before it becomes undeniable.

Question:
Can you look back on a difficult season that later made sense?